


What's it Like to Fly Again?

by Mellifluous (Fandomsandbands)



Category: Eddsworld
Genre: M/M, Past Injury, Post The End, Redemption AU, Wing AU, for Princeofmints (tumblr), this has ruined me ugh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-19
Updated: 2016-10-19
Packaged: 2018-08-23 12:06:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8327224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fandomsandbands/pseuds/Mellifluous
Summary: A little bit of sadness from a winged AU. Tord is redeeming/redeemed himself but he still lost his right wing, which resulted in him being unable to fly.!CREDIT TO PRINCEOFMINTS! THIS AU WAS CREATED BY THEM!





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tiiko](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiiko/gifts).



Tord preferred to stay inside on days like this, when the clouds were puffy and high in the stratosphere, and every weather channel on the TV called it a 'perfect day for flying', embellishing the blue sky up to even the pickiest avian's standards.   
That wasn’t great to hear when you couldn't fly.  
Better to close the blinds, put on some shitty soap opera, steal Matt's Pringles, and try to ignore the throbbing ache in the stub of his ruined right wing.  
As he was finishing the third episode of something mostly in Spanish (and finally getting invested in Maria's backstory) a tall, rather imposing figure towered over him.  
"Move over."  
Tord leaned to his side, angling his neck to the side to see the screen.  
"I'll pass."  
Tom picked him up easily, sliding him down to the corner of the couch. Tord's one wing flapped in a lacklustre sort of manner before resting at his side and half-cupping him like a armchair.   
"Do you even know what they're saying?"  
"Sorta." Tom slipped an arm under Tord's back, brushing his secondary coverts and causing the entire powdery wing to shudder like a stretching cat.   
"Mm." The Norski curled into Tom's side, trying not to put too much weight on his stub. They watched through about 20 minutes of the episode before Tord faked a yawn and pushed up out of the cocoon that was composed of limbs and blankets and the strangely comforting smell of vodka and cigarettes, wandering off to his room. He was undecided on whether to rub one out just on the scent or cry himself to a 10 am nap.   
He chose both.

Some dog barking at a pigeon across the street woke him up around noon. Tord blinked wearily. God, his head hurt. And his back- the whole of it now, was practically stinging.   
_Awake ten minutes, and you're already crying. Good fuckin job._  
The car wasn't in the driveway, so it was likely that Matt and Edd weren't home, with a 50/50 on whether or not Tom was. He secretly hoped the man was, because when tears came like they were now, even people like Tord could admit it:  
You needed someone.   
His good wing almost dragged on the floor as he stumbled to Tom's room, trying to see through the salty water.  
Three knocks against the slightly waterlogged door.  
A muffled voice yelled 'Come in!' And Tord pushed open the threshold with a small bit of difficulty and walked in, vaguely looking away in a half-hearted effort to hide his tears.  
Thomas was reading something on the bed, his eyes mostly attached to that. He only glanced up briefly once Tord came in, eyes darting to his stub as they always seemed to do.  
It made his ribcage burn.  
He fell onto the dark blue bedspread, rolling so the discomfort was kept at a minimum. He snaked his arms to Tom's chest, and buried his face in the hoodie that still smelled like alcohol.  
"Remind me what it's like to fly." He murmured.  
Tom set the book down. "What?"  
"Flying." He paused to catch his breath, and tone down the shiver in his voice. "I don't remember it."   
Tom rolled over, his wings draping over both of them.   
"Are you crying?" He asked quietly.  
"Fuck off." Tord responded unsteadily.  
A second of silence, then Tom grabbed his arms and dragged him up, out, through the fly door onto the roof, and into the daylight he so despised.   
"What- why are we out here?!?"  
Tom shrugged, wings following suit.  
Frustrated, but too exhausted to argue, Tord sat down on the edge of the platform. Tom joined him.  
"Are you okay?" He asked after a moment.  
"No." Came the curt reply.  
"Want to get drunk?"  
"Wouldn't help."   
"Tord, I know what you're going through-"  
And then he broke.  
Every last bit of self restraint he had drained away, and he stood up abruptly, ignoring the jolt of pain through his shoulder blades.   
"No, you don't! Don't even try to relate to me!"  
Tom stood up as well, but he seemed more worried than angry.   
"Tord, I do."  
"No! All I had were these! The only thing I ever loved about myself were these two dumb wings and look at me!"  
A full body gesture to his robotic arm, the black patch, the scars nicking his face, and the ever taunting stub of a dove's wing.   
"You've got average wings at best! And I'm sure there are other things about you that you don't despise utterly! All I had were my wings and I CAN'T EVEN FLY NOW!" He was screaming. He knew it.   
"I don't understand, then." A dangerous implication had undermined Tom's usually soft baritone.  
"Because the taunts through high school about being dirty and disgusting aren't worth jack. Because being doused in December because my wings were 'dusty' never really happened, and of course when they **clipped my fucking wings** in junior year it was all a joke, and not flying for a year and a half? Classic comedy."   
Tord sucked in a breath. He knew that having brown wings like Tom's never implied the best of social standings, but clipping his wings? That was almost unheard of.  
Still-  
"But you can fly now. You've got two wings that work perfectly. You don't have to stand the snickers and jeers every time you go outside because it fucking grew back. I'm going to be like this until I die, Thomas. I'm never going to fly again, and what's the point anyway? Maybe I'll just saw the other one off- fix the balance problem, anyways-" Tord sobbed, trying to talk about ruining the only good thing about him like it didn't matter, but it did. His wings made up most, if not all, of his self-esteem, and they were ruined.  
"Dammit, I just want to fly again!" He hissed, feeling the pain behind his teeth.   
Ten seconds, then a pair of arms wrapped around him like a vice and wings twice the size of him were obscuring the too-perfect sky from his view.  
Tord felt a soft kiss press against his forehead and then Tom jumped up, launching off the roof with a vigor that the dove avian could only remember.   
Fifty feet up, and they pulled to a hover, Tom's wings beating powerfully to keep them steady.  
"If you wanted to feel this again, you could have just asked. I'm not like Edd and Matt. I know you're not fragile."  
Tord clutched him tightly, partly out of fear and partly because despite the mixed feelings he had for the man, there was something about the kind simplicity of the gesture that made him feel grateful, along with some emotions too long repressed to identify.  
"Dhfkgkgg…" He muttered into the hawk's hoodie.  
"Didn't catch that." Tom prodded, albeit gently.  
"Thank you."

END

**Author's Note:**

> Wow okay this is a mess but i love it anyway  
> -  
> Go find the owner of this au! Their tumblr is Princeofmints, and their ao3 is PrincePip!


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